


O Heartbeat

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: From Sex to Love, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Kinda, M/M, PWP, Romance, it's just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can you keep it quiet, Gabriel?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Heartbeat

> Cold water for cooling down
> 
> But you know that when you stay around
> 
> Old fortune for sudden leave
> 
> Oh, but maybe you're sincere
> 
> -  _Ra Ra Riot_

“Can you keep it quiet?”

It’s hardly the first time Gabriel has had that asked of him. Typically with some measure of exasperation cradled in the question, and never with the affection or lust that he hears in Sam’s voice now. He understands its necessity—even if Dean and Castiel are asleep, they’re still one thin motel wall away from discovery, and this undefined _thing_ between them is hardly common knowledge. It’s a secret because it’s meaningless, or because they’re ashamed of it, or because they’re afraid. Gabriel doesn’t like to think about it. Neither of them likes to talk about it. But whatever it is, it stops mattering when Sam drapes himself, warm and naked, over Gabriel’s back. When Gabriel feels the pull of calloused fingers across his skin, feels hot breath in his ear.

“Can you keep it quiet, Gabriel?”

He nods, hums assent. There’s a wet sound, and then cool, slick nudging against his hole. Gabriel leans into the touch, suddenly very thankful that he sleeps in the buff as Sam slides one slippery finger inside him. Movement, then another, movement, then another, and Gabriel relaxes into it, into the press and ache and stretch as Sam opens him. There’s a drag against his prostate, and he jerks, makes fists in the pillow he’s clutching to his cheek.

Sam makes quick, efficient work of him, and then there’s a blunter nudge, a _push_ , and Gabriel has to _bite_ the pillow now to keep from moaning as Sam enters him.

Sam wriggles his hips, adjusts his position so he’s lying flat on Gabriel—between the archangel’s legs, arms braced on either side of his body. He starts to move. Slow, slow, agonizingly slow, and Gabriel knows that Sam knows this is how he likes it. Gabriel is a creature of extremes where sex is concerned. His modes are _rough and fast_ and _slow and deep_ , and the former simply doesn’t lend itself well to secrecy.

Beneath them both, Gabriel’s hard cock is rutting slow between his belly and the sheets. There’s a shift, and then one wide palm is running up and down his abdomen—a knee comes up, and another shift, and they’re tilted on their sides so that Sam can touch, can clutch at the fat and stroke the erection below.

Gabriel still has the pillow stuffed against his teeth. Sam has buried his face in Gabriel’s curls. And for a long moment, the only sounds are the thin drag of sheets, the wet, the push, and the soft huffing of their breath.

Gabriel allows himself that moment to be undone. To bask in the pleasure curling slowly through him, and the amazing impossibility that is Sam Winchester. Who is as gentle a lover as he is violent, who knows the body that Gabriel calls home so well. Who is mouthing at the back of Gabriel’s neck, and running clever fingers along the length of his cock, and moving inside him so deliciously. Who forgave him, who let him stay, who put him on his knees and made him _his_.

Gabriel whimpers into the pillow.

It’s getting harder to keep his promise. Sam isn’t going any faster, but he’s increasing the force of his movements, each push of his hips sending electricity skittering up Gabriel’s spine. From the sound of his breathing, the trembling of his thighs, Gabriel can guess he isn’t far from the edge himself.

Sam lets out a muffled groan, and Gabriel pulls away from the pillow, shifting his position. He cranes his head, reaches one arm back to pull Sam into a rough and sloppy kiss.

“Sam,” Gabriel murmurs into his mouth. “Sam…”

A press of teeth, a low moan, and Gabriel feels Sam coming inside him. The heat and the pressure and the _feeling_ is all too much—Gabriel’s orgasm follows like a thunderclap, streaking the sheets with white and the air with wordless sound.

They shudder through and settle, and Gabriel feels warmth spreading through him. A sun that starts in his chest and glows outward, running sleepy and sweet to the tips of every digit, every hair. Sam slips out, and Gabriel rolls to face him.

Sam smiles, kisses Gabriel’s nose. The gesture is so unthinkably cute that Gabriel has to laugh. Sam’s smile widens, and when it does Gabriel feels a swell of something bright. He knows he shouldn’t name it, that Sam wouldn’t want to hear it. Still, a part of him aches to open his mouth and let it spill out, sing it, scream it, make the whole world listen. Sam might not want to know, but Gabriel _needs_ him to know, to know exactly how deep he’s managed to cut.

But he can keep it quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> WHY DO I ALWAYS WRITE SAPPY PORN AT 2 IN THE MORNING. WHY.
> 
> Title and quote from the lyrics of "Keep it Quiet" by Ra Ra Riot, which is so very Sabriel it hurts.


End file.
